


Three Things Worth Holding

by PeroxidePirate



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Sword and the Flame - Christian
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeroxidePirate/pseuds/PeroxidePirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three encounters set in sleeping quarters: two slash, one femslash. "Three things worth holding, if you can find them," said Celidon, the Merlin. "The devotion of a sister, the trust of a friend, the respect of a rival." (This isn't really a cohesive story, though. Think of it more like a collection of Yuletide stocking stuffers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alfia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosemaryandrue (Rosie_Rues)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/gifts).



> Based on Catherine Christian's _The Sword and the Flame,_ a book I cannot rec strongly enough, which tells the story of Arthurian legend from Bedivere's perspective.
> 
> Arthur's family tree is always a mess. In Christian's version, Morgause is Arthur's step-sister, and the mother of four knights, the youngest of whom is Aglavain. Ygern is half-sister to both Arthur and Morgause, brought up with Arthur and Bedivere, and the mother of Medraut (also known as Mordred).
> 
> So the last pairing here is kind of incest: Aglavain and Medraut are half-cousins, instead of half-brothers as they'd be in the traditional saga. It's also, oddly, the one pairing that does come directly from the book.

“Three things worth holding, if you can find them,” said Celidon, the Merlin. “The devotion of a sister, the trust of a friend, the respect of a rival.”

.

“'Most women' can and do endure far more than he will ever guess,” Ygern said, slamming the door to our barracks room.

“Bedivere?” I asked. He's a good lad, the young man that my lady and the high king call “brother,” but not well known for his comprehension of the fairer sex.

She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. “And he fancies himself in love with me, if you can imagine! He doesn't understand at all.”

“Most men don't.” I wrapped my arms around the girl, and she clung to me, head resting comfortably on my bosom.

“I wish I'd had a sister growing up,” she sniffled, as I petted her hair. “Someone like you.”

“A sister?” I was unable to keep the amusement from my voice. “Is that what this is?”

She lifted her head to study me. Then we both began to laugh, and did not stop until we had collapsed onto the bed.

“Well, what do I know of brothers and sisters?” she asked, when we had caught our breath. “Bedivere thinks he's in love with me, I'm half in love with Arthur (in spite of myself), and they call themselves my brothers. And you and I...”

“My lady,” I said solemnly. Then I kissed her until she'd forgotten everything else.

It was only later, as night was beginning to fall and Ygern dozed in the crook of my arm, the blanket pulled over us both, that her words came home to me. Not 'what _would_ I do without you,' but 'what _will_ I do?'

My hand rested on her belly, and I shuddered, wondering what changes her child would bring to both our lives. It's a bad business, falling in love with a woman who can see the future.


	2. Palomides

“Palomides, how I've missed you,” Verus said. He kept looking at me, sidelong, and then looking away.

I suppose it must have been a shock to him, finding me alive when he, like all the companions, had so long thought me dead. But the others had exhibited a quick euphoria of surprise, and then gone on to celebrate together with all the collected company, while Bedivere – my Verus, as I had dared to think him during my enslavement, when I expected never to lay eyes on him again – would not let me leave his side. All through the celebration, the eating and drinking, the harping and drumming and dancing, he had kept me within reach. And when his chief assistant, Griffin, came to say he would have a tent pitched for me, Verus had stopped him with a decisive shake of his head. “Palomides sleeps with me,” he'd said.

I had felt the blood rise in my cheeks, for though I heard his words clearly, I could not be certain of his meaning.

Now, in his tent, a second cot had been set up. The space between was so small, when we sat each on his own cot, our knees were touching.

“I have missed you so,” he said again.

“And I, you,” I said softly. My tongue must have been loosened – not by wine, for I'd had little, but by the emotion that clearly overwhelmed us both. “There were days... and nights, so many lonely nights guarding the flocks, when my only wish was to be back... with you.”

I turned my face down as I said the last, hopeful but afraid of what I might see in his eyes. Then his calloused fingers lifted my chin so I had to look at him. And I knew the love between us, whatever its form, was strong and never-ending.

He was the one to lean closer, until his lips touched mine. The first kiss was chaste, almost the kiss of a brother. The second, markedly less so.

“Is this what you meant?” I asked, deliberately placing one hand high up on his thigh. “When you said I would sleep with you?”

“Is it?” he mused, as though deeply puzzled. It's then I remembered he had been, through the festivities, scarcely without a wineskin in his hand. “It's time, Palomides. It's long past time.”

I let him kiss me just once more, then with no small effort of will, I drew away. Gentle as a mother, I brushed the hair back from his forehead. “It is _not_ time, my friend,” I said. “Tomorrow night, if you remember this. Tomorrow will be time.”

“Palomides,” he pleaded. And with another man – any other man, I think – I would have yielded. But I could not risk losing his friendship, now that I at last had it back.

“You must sleep now,” I said. “Lay down. I'll still be here tomorrow.”

Within moments he was snoring, a sound I'd heard so many times before. I lay awake on the second cot, watching his chest rise and fall, taking comfort from the knowledge that, at least in some small way, he was _my_ Verus. To this day I do not know if he remembers what transpired that night, for he never spoke of it again. But our friendship is still strong.


	3. Aglavain

The door swung open, and I sat up in bed, hand reaching already for my sword. In the moonlight, a figure was outlined in the doorway. Then my brachet hound gave a low growl, and then a whine, crawling forward with her belly close to the ground. I let go of the sword.

“Get in here and close the door.”

He did as I asked, but whispered, “You issue this invitation to an unknown man?”

I threw off the bedclothes, leaped across the small room and, gripping both his shoulders, pushed Medraut against the wall. “I would say you're a _known_ man,” I said, and he laughed as my mouth found his.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, breathless, when at last I ended the kiss. From neck to thigh, I could feel the scratch of his woolen tunic against my skin.

I glanced at Rez, lying beside the door in an attitude of disgust – the brachet cared as little for Medraut as he for her, or for any dog. “A stranger, and she would stand guard. A friend, and she would wag. Only for you, would she crawl and whine.”

“Like dog, like master,” he said, pushing me back into the center of the room, toward the bed. Our interludes were always half wrestling match.

“Get rid of all this,” I demanded, tugging at his swordbelt and then his tunic. “And I'll show you who whines today.”

With the door closed it was too dark to see his sly grin, but I knew it was there. “You know it's never me.” He shoved me until I landed, sitting, on the bed. He dropped to his knees before me on the stone floor, hands on my bare legs, and as I gripped the back of his head I took some satisfaction in knowing at least he would be left with bruises.

I knew I could not keep silent. As usual, in this as in all things, Medraut would win.


End file.
